


my dream motel?

by lalakiki



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Biker Gang, M/M, Motel AU, Not Serious, maybe a little serious, other tags TBA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-09 11:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19886917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalakiki/pseuds/lalakiki
Summary: Two hours as Motel 0 Mile’s new receptionist and Renjun’s already had enough of his coworkers. But the worst is yet to come.





	1. Chapter 1

The morning sun barely peeks beyond the faraway mountains when Renjun, drowsy, yawns and lifts his head from his desk. Ten past six. He was warned by his supervisor (a tired-looking fellow named Doyoung) and the barista Donghyuck (for some reason) that nothing ever happens, especially in the early hours, so if he wanted to snooze off on the crescent-shaped desk, “by all means.”

“Coffee,” a person strutting to the lobby sings cheerfully. Renjun looks over his shoulder; he’s seen this guy yesterday, his heart-shaped face, brown locks, gray apron and all. Renjun believes he’s the only staff member capable of making non-instant coffee. He puts a mug of fresh coffee on the desk, adding a bright smile to the delivery. Renjun thanks him. “How’s being the face of this great motel so far?”

“Donghyuck, I’ve done nothing but stare at the sunrise so far,” the honey-haired one informs him with a sarcastic grin.

“I feel you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Okay,” Donghyuck says sweetly to mask his bitterness as he leaves the lobby. Renjun takes a sip of the coffee. It vaguely tastes like oranges, so he puts the mug on the very far corner of his desk. 

Motel 0 Mile is one of _those_ small town motels. Half of the staff quit because of the obscenely low wages; another quarter of the staff couldn’t handle how boring their jobs were at the uneventful motel. Almost all customers stay for one night because they’re in the middle of long car trips and whatnot. And, best of all, way too many blueberry muffins are baked daily alongside horrendously mediocre coffee that really only the staff drinks. 

The previous receptionist apparently quit “due to unknown circumstances”, despite the boss Kun begging him to stay. Kun was so incredibly relieved when Renjun signed up for the position a few days later — before that, one of the housekeepers had to take over the job temporarily, which wasn’t the greatest idea because he isn’t fluent in Korean — that he declared that there was going to be a “marvelous celebration”, to which Renjun profusely and politely declined. 

To Renjun, it seems like the only people left as the motel’s staff are… very strange people. Donghyuck is dramatic and overly sweet all the time, even though everyone knows he’s putting up an act for unknown reasons. Kun is stressed, so very stressed and has an unbelievable amount of hope in his new employee Renjun. Additionally, he told Renjun everyone went by a first name basis, no matter what their positions were in the motel staff hierarchy or their age which is plain odd, but still acceptable. The waiter, who he only saw once while he was getting a tour of the building, was laughing to himself (and by himself) in the kitchen. There’s also someone who lurks around the hallways, stealing muffins and bananas from baskets meant for guests. Renjun didn’t take a good look at him but his outfit screamed police officer.

At least one upside to working at this godforsaken place is that Kun was super lenient on letting Renjun stay in one of the rooms (many of them are unoccupied, so most workers have already claimed a room as their own, anyway). Renjun is a full time worker, so being able to live at his workplace is very much appreciated, especially because the receptionist is arguably the most important worker (aside from the boss and supervisor, obviously).

“You know, I have the strangest feeling that something bad’s gonna happen today,” a voice says, surprising Renjun. Doyoung steps into the lobby, staring pitifully at the pink toy piano labeled “feel free to play”. According to Donghyuck, Doyoung is literally everyone’s, even Kun’s, supervisor and does a lot of the finance, supply and task management. He wears a suit everyday, except he doesn’t actually wear the blazer. Every morning, he goes around checking the employees are doing what they’re supposed to do, hence the clipboard tucked under his arm. He looks the most well-kept but Donghyuck cautioned Renjun: “don’t be fooled by his smart man glasses.”

“Why do you say that?” Renjun asks, arms crossed on the desk.

“I can just _feel_ it,” Doyoung whispers back, squinting his eyes. He crouches down to play an off-tune F on the toy piano and clears his throat. Walking up to the desk, he taps the smooth surface. Renjun blinks at him indifferently. “I forgot to tell you, but the receptionist usually has to refill the energy basket in the lobby.”

Renjun stares at him. Doyoung stares back quietly, without moving.

“So you’re telling me to go refill it,” eventually says Renjun, eyeing the empty straw basket next to the lobby sofa chairs. A couple of them are scattered around the motel, usually at each guest floor. They’re filled with either muffins or apples, bananas and oranges, hence Doyoung and the others calling them “energy baskets.”

“Precisely.”

Renjun gets up with a sigh and grabs the basket. Doyoung nods, checking something on his clipboard and paper.

While he’s traveling down the dark, narrow hallway, he walks past a red-haired housekeeper balancing at least seven folded tablecloths in his hands, who lets out a high pitched scream a couple seconds later when he drops all of them. Renjun doesn’t bother to turn back and help him because the guy should’ve known better. Another person crosses paths with him but this time he stops, catching Renjun’s attention. He’s the person whom the receptionist thought was a police officer. 

“Dude.” 

His eyes are huge, absolutely huge like he’s seen the devil. He’s definitely wearing an outfit that a guard of some sort would be wearing. The lack of a badge tells him he’s probably not actually a cop. But he does have a flashlight, one of those police sticks and maybe a taser attached to his belt.

“Can I help you?” Renjun asks, a little uncomfortable. He doesn’t like how he has to physically look up because this guy’s so tall.

“You see that?” he goes. A noticeable accent plagues his pronunciation and grammar. He points a finger at Renjun, now looking terribly concerned. “Wait, you- you’re a guest?”

Renjun squints at the name tag the guy’s got on his chest: “Wong Yukhei (Huang Xuxi) (Lucas)”, the ones in parentheses handwritten in marker. Stunning.

“ _First of all, I literally work here. _Second of all… That’s all I have to say._ ”_

__

__

“ _Oh, yeah! Haha._ ” He pats his forehead and laughs at himself. “ _Wait, what the fuck?_ ” he says, switching back to his concerned look at the fact that Renjun speaks Chinese.

“I’m busy, goodbye,” Renjun quickly tells him after deciding he’s had enough of this senseless conversation, speeding past him. Yukhei watches him, shrugging, then turns around and shouts to the housekeeper still folding and picking up the tablecloths. Renjun can faintly hear the conversation, even when they’re out of sight because they’re _so loud._ It’s no wonder that this place doesn’t have a lot of customers.

“ _Dude, Chenle! That’s a new record!_ ”

“ _What? No way! It’s six-thirty!_ ”

“ _Nah, look! It’s six-fifteen!_ ”

“ _Oh._ ”

The glass doors to a dimly lit, empty room full of tables, chairs and counters is where Renjun steps foot in for his quest of filling the energy basket. Although the dining area is supposed to open half past seven, he hears chattering coming from the back, presumably the kitchen. He cuts through the dining area to the kitchen, hoping some worker there knows where he can refill the basket and to escape the disturbing number of bird paintings on the walls. He would love to know who made that executive decision so he can avoid them whenever possible.

“So I took the beans, shuffled them around in my hand like this and I told him, ‘Hey. Guess which bean is the coffee bean.’ The thing is, though… They were all coffee beans. He just looked at me and said, ‘Johnny, for the love of God, go to bed. It’s two in the morning.’”

“Delicious.”

“I know, right?”

Renjun walks in the kitchen cautiously. A person wearing a white apron and baker’s hat next to a taller person dressed as a waiter glance at him. The waiter has a handful of coffee beans in his palm.

“Well, well, well. How the turned tables,” the waiter says smugly, dropping the beans into the pocket of his black waiter-skirt. His bow tie is a little crooked and it bothers Renjun a lot. The worst part is, he has a feeling that this waiter set it crookedly on purpose. “I’ve heard about you, new guy.”

“Oh! So that’s you,” the baker exclaims. He puts his hand to his mouth out of surprise, even though he’s wearing large oven mitts. He reaches out his hand — still with the oven mitt on — for a handshake. A bright smile lights up his face. “Nice to meet you! I’m Jungwoo.”

Renjun hesitantly shakes the oven mitt, only able to crack a tiny smile. “I’m Renjun.”

“And I’m hungry.”

The waiter waits a couple seconds for Renjun or Jungwoo to make any sort of reaction. They don’t. He drops to his knees dramatically, the coffee beans in his pocket rattling. “Oh, what cruel treatment thou give me…!”

“Is he okay?” Renjun asks softly to the baker, wincing at whatever the waiter is doing.

“Just peachy,” the baker replies with a smile.

He gets up as though it was nothing, brushing the dust off of his hands with his vest. He stares at Renjun, flashing an indescribable expression. It isn’t until now that Renjun realizes this is the weird waiter he witnessed laughing by himself yesterday in the kitchen. Or maybe he was with the baker. Why is he hanging out in the kitchen at this hour?

“I’m Johnny,” he says, pointing to his name tag. It says “Johnny (Suh)”, all printed.

“Are you here to refill?” Jungwoo asks, looking at the basket the receptionist is holding.

“Oh, yeah. Doyoung just told me that the receptionist usually does the one in the lobby,” explains Renjun, glancing around at the kitchen.

Johnny chuckles, though it’s more like a scoff. 

“That’s a lie,” he says bluntly.

Renjun looks at him quizzically and frowns.

“Then who’s supposed to do it?”

The waiter and baker look at each other quietly. Jungwoo takes Renjun’s empty hand and leads him further into the kitchen to what seems like a storage. Swinging open the door, Jungwoo shows Renjun to shelves upon shelves full of muffins, organized and labeled by type — maple, chocolate, blueberry, and “surprise!!!” There has to be _hundreds_ of muffins in this room. 

“So, yeah. Just grab a bunch of muffins until the basket’s almost overflowing and you’re good to go,” Jungwoo explains with a nervous smile.

Renjun narrows his eyes suspiciously at Jungwoo while methodically picking and placing muffins in his basket. 

“You guys are definitely hiding something from me, aren’t you?”

“Haha,” laughs Jungwoo shakily with his oven hands behind his back. He avoids Renjun’s doubtful, piercing gaze.

Renjun leaves after two minutes of muffins.

“I think he might notice,” Jungwoo whispers to Johnny when they watch Renjun stomp off into the distance. “He seems smart.”

“Well,” Johnny says with a loud yawn, “I guess you could say…” He pauses to give Jungwoo a wink. 

“Huh?”

“…That it was almost the end of the beans.”

“Johnny, frankly, no one here speaks French.”

“But you knew that idiom’s French.”

“Johnny, frankly, you have a point.”

“I know. I always do.”

— 

Renjun discovers a suspicious note taped onto the computer at his station when he returns to the lobby. When he snatches it from the screen and reads the admirably neat handwriting, his annoyed look intensifies. It reads:

_to: our new receptionist_

_hey_  
_thanks for getting hired we appreciate it a lot_  
_we heard you speak chinese please come see us at the laundry (guest coin one) room immediately if that's true???_  
_like right now. if you don’t want to be exfoliated in the lobby_  
_(we doubt you do)_

_from: the NPC <3_

There are so many questions Renjun has in regards to this note, a sheet of paper ripped from one of the notepads every guest room has on the nightstand. But he swallows those questions and, with a deep, deep breath, marches off to the laundry room. The note crinkles in his hand.

As he recalls it, the laundry room is on the first floor, near some other employees-only utilities areas. The vending machines for candy and snacks next to those rooms make it a popular spot for workers to hang out, Donghyuck informed him once. The laundry room is also sort of broken down and shabby. No one really uses it, anyway, since motels are usually a person’s one night stop, unless they’ve gone through something _really_ wild that soiled their clothes. 

Donghyuck was serious about his cautions against the people who use the laundry room as a regular hangout. 

“They know everything,” apparently.

Renjun is standing in front of the door. There’s another note taped to it, right at eye level, telling him to relocate himself to the stairs. His eyebrows furrow. 

“I swear, these people… I have a job to do,” he complains under his breath, taking down that note from the door as well. He heads to the stairs, ignoring the gut feeling he has that someone is following him.

As soon as he’s at the stairs, he’s nearly fuming at the fact that there’s no one, not even a note. When he stands still with his hands on his hips, debating whether or not to complain to his supervisor about this out of spite, someone sneaks up behind him. Their arms swoop under Renjun’s, locking him in place.

“What the– Let go of me!” Renjun shouts, his body squirming around in an attempt to break free. The person’s grip is strong and holds him still. Another person comes running towards them from the hall. He’s the redhead housekeeper — Chenle, if he remembers correctly — from earlier.

“Go, go, go!” he shout-whispers, rushing the person and Renjun up the staircase. Renjun goes limp in the person’s grip, who clearly didn’t think this through because he has to walk backwards up the staircase while dragging Renjun’s weight. He hears him grunting and struggling, in fact.

“Did you guys come up with this plan ten minutes ago or something?” Renjun mumbles with an unimpressed look, his feet dragging. Chenle is walking right behind them, putting his pointer finger to his lips. He looks incredibly young, maybe even younger than Renjun. And that would be a surprise, since Renjun barely turned twenty a few weeks ago. Also, what’s with the hair color? Bright cherry red on a housekeeper? Strange, but not too unexpected if Chenle is as young as he seems.

Neither of them answer him. Renjun frowns unhappily the entire time he’s being dragged to a room on the second floor — this is where some guests are staying, so if anyone happened to step out their room they’d witness this suspicious scene — until they halt in front of a specific room at the end of the hall. Chenle opens it secretively and Renjun is hurriedly pulled in. Chenle closes the door behind them, but not before checking both ways to see if anyone’s watching.

“You guys have a lot of explaining to do,” Renjun says in a quiet voice. The person lets go of his body. He turns around to see someone shrugging at him, wearing the same uniform Chenle is. So they _are_ the two Chinese housekeepers.

The room is just a regular guest room. Miscellaneous items are on the bed and coffee table and the blankets are messy, indicating this room is definitely occupied. Maybe the housekeepers share the room and spend time here together often, since they do seem to be close friends.

Chenle approaches Renjun and puts a hand on his shoulder. Renjun realizes that he’s yet to meet someone who’s shorter than himself, a fact that does not make him feel the happiest.

“ _Welcome to our humble abode. We’re the NPC._ ”

“ _I don’t get that,_ ” remarks Renjun, prying Chenle’s hand off of his shoulder, “ _Why do you guys call yourselves the National People’s Congress?_ ”

“ _We’re the NPC of this place. You know, the country Motel 0 Mile. We govern it,_ ” Chenle explains with a wide smile.

“ _That’s not even in the least bit true._ ”

“ _Anyways, I’m Chenle,”_ he introduces with a thumbs up. He then points to the other guy, saying, “ _And this is Winwin, or Sicheng._ ”

Sicheng waves his hand.

“ _So why exactly am I here?_ ” Renjun asks with a raised eyebrow.

“ _To play Uno with us,_ ” Chenle replies casually, grabbing a deck of Uno cards from the coffee table.

Renjun stares at them silently, thinking these two are unbelievable. He went through all of that trouble just to play a card game with some housekeepers? 

“ _Guys, I get that you’re bored, but I actually have to be at the desk or someone’s going to get mad at me, which is either going to be Doyoung, Kun, or a guest._ ” Renjun sighs, shaking his head. He begins making his way to the door, an action that is met with great opposition.

“ _You– You can’t leave, not yet!_ ” Chenle screeches, tugging on Renjun’s cardigan and hurting his ears. 

Renjun winces. 

“ _If you don’t have anything of value for me, I’m leaving. I have to go to work._ ”

“ _You are at work,_ ” Sicheng comments. Renjun glares at him.

“ _Okay, okay! Then I’ll tell you some juicy information, so please stay just for five minutes!_ ” the panicked Chenle begs. The receptionist exhales deeply and goes to sit on the bed, putting his hands in his lap. Why is he so desperate to have Renjun in their room, even if it’s for a short amount of time? 

The suspicion he has for these people — including the baker and waiter — continues to grow, and it hasn’t even been an hour into his shift.

“ _Five minutes only._ ”

Chenle gulps. He’s visibly shaken.

“ _Okay. But I’m gonna warn you: this information is not for the faint of heart._ ”

— 

“You guys are… doing the thing, right?”

Doyoung leans an elbow on the counter, pointing an accusatory wooden spoon at the two. Johnny’s head is doused in flour. Jungwoo is biting on a strawberry.

“Yes?” Jungwoo says in his shy voice, munching on the strawberry. Doyoung can see at least two more strawberries stuffed in one apron pocket, and an entire whisk in the other. 

Johnny huffs, a cloud of flour flying towards Doyoung’s face and subsequently powdering his glasses.

“We’re doing great,” Johnny reassures with a grin that Doyoung can’t see.

“Glad to see that,” he replies bitterly.

“We actually have been working on it. We’ve made a lot of progress!” Jungwoo exclaims while making tiny claps with his hands. “Johnny helped me lay out the sheets and measure the ingredients we need. Right, Johnny?”

The waiter pats his supervisor’s back strongly with his flour-covered palm, saying, “Totally.”

“I know you just put a bunch of flour on my back.”

“Doyoung, are you sure we shouldn’t have Kun do this?” Jungwoo asks a bit concernedly. He gently taps his supervisor’s arm (with clean hands) and puts a damp towel in his hands (for his glasses). “You know neither of us can even remotely write Chinese characters. It’s going to look awful…”

A sigh slips past Doyoung’s lips as he takes off his glasses and wipes the lenses.

“He’s got a lot of stuff to do this week. If I even try to suggest giving him more work, he’ll end up in the storage again.” Jungwoo and Doyoung shiver at the mere thought of it. Johnny laughs. “Besides,” he continues, flashing a weird glance at the waiter, “everything’s going according to plan so far. I was worried about _the duo_ at first, but they’ve done their part well.”

When Doyoung finishes cleaning his glasses, he cautiously puts them back on and shrieks, “Oh, shit!” while stumbling backwards. Jungwoo, scared by the shriek, also jumps up and instinctively grabs the whisk in his pocket, standing like a batter ready for the pitch. Doyoung’s face is bright red. He puts his hand up to his mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize Jungwoo was, like, right there.”

“Funny,” Johnny says with a smirk that makes Doyoung uncomfortable enough to leave.

“Just a reminder: it has to be finished by tomorrow! And start getting ready for breakfast!” the supervisor yells on his way out of the eatery.

— 

“Donghyuck, that’s… No.”

“What?” the barista questions offendedly, shoulders up. “If I have a pregnant wife who isn’t capable of taking care of the house or the kid after it gets birthed, then I should have the right to go on maternity leave, too. It makes perfect sense.”

Renjun’s face goes into his palms. A quarter past eight and he’s ready to have a day-long nap. 

He initially thought — after having a near hour long talk at Chenle and Sicheng’s room despite promising only five minutes — that he’d finally get a break from his coworkers and their ridiculous shenanigans. It turned out that he was oh so very wrong because when he was back at the lobby, he happened upon an entire domino line on the desk that someone had set up while he was gone. When knocked down, each domino had a character written in red marker that, put together, created the message: “Tomorrow. Staff lounge. Seven (night). Be there. Or die.”

At this point, Renjun’s learned to not question anything.

Renjun almost, _almost_ tears his hair out of his head.

“Donghyuck, repeat after me.”

“Okay,” the brunette agrees, nodding.

“Maternity leaves for fathers exist. They are called paternity leaves.”

“Maternity leaves for fathers exist. They are called paternity leaves,” Donghyuck drones perfectly. Realization hits him next. “Wait, _what_?”

Sighing loudly, Renjun crosses his arms on the desk and uses them as a pillow for his head. The side of his face rests atop his arms, him staring blankly at the front doors that haven’t been opened once this day. His coffee mug from Donghyuck remains on the far edge of the desk; occasionally, Renjun spots Donghyuck staring intently at the coffee mug, then at the receptionist, and then back at the lukewarm drink. Renjun takes a careful, tiny sip in fear that the barista would lose his marbles if he doesn’t pick the mug up anytime soon. 

The hint of orange is worse when the coffee is at room temperature. 

Donghyuck hoists himself up, using his hands on the desk, to sit on top of the furniture with his legs crossed daintily.

“I wonder if having someone’s butt on the desk is a health violation,” Renjun murmurs.

“Clothed?” 

Donghyuck leans back, blinking at Renjun and his admittedly affectionate face when half of it is squished against his arm-pillow.

“Nevertheless.”

“Huh.”

A minute of silence goes by. The sudden, faint sound of multiple vehicles driving nearby alerts the barista.

“Oh, no,” groans Donghyuck, sliding off the desk and getting on his feet. His eyes are glued on the glass doors and walls. Renjun doesn’t stir quite yet. “Renjun, get up. Right now,” he whispers, shaking the other’s shoulder.

“What?” 

The receptionist annoyedly sits upright. He frowns at Donghyuck, fully expecting an explanation.

“Look sharp, dude.”

“That’s not much of a–”

The door swings open aggressively. One, two, three, many young men step in one after another. Renjun’s eyes go wide at the sight. They’re all wearing black leather jackets, ripped jeans, boots, gloves. Their hairstyles are the same, well combed and parted bangs, colors varying. Silver jewelry is seen here and there. They all smile at each other and murmur amongst themselves when they fill up the lobby. Renjun counts seven heads.

“Biker gang. Good luck,” Donghyuck mouths. He makes a beeline for the hallway.

The first person to enter walks up to the desk. Renjun composes himself, wanting to be a proper receptionist for, _finally_ , some work.

He can tell why Donghyuck escaped the lobby so quick. These people scream nothing but trouble. But as long as they’re paying customers and behaving normally, Renjun isn’t allowed to refuse them service or anything. He wouldn’t, anyway, because he doesn’t want to judge a book by its cover. Even so, he’s currently doing a whole lot of judging, just from the looks of the person with a sharp jawline and scarred eyebrow glancing down at him.

Renjun gulps. Whatever is coming at him, he’s ready for it.

“Hello, and welcome to Motel 0 Mile. How may I help you today?” he greets, mustering out his best customer service voice.

“I’d like to check in three rooms for seven people,” he says calmly. 

Two of them, Renjun sees from the corner of his eye, are marvelling at the toy piano and hitting random keys. One is pointing out the basket full of muffins to the others. Two of them take one and start eating. Another person squints at the miniature domino tower Renjun had made after he knocked down the line. He’s scratching his head at the seemingly random letters on each piece. 

Is it just him or is he suddenly at a daycare?

Renjun nods and pulls up a tab on the computer.

“Three rooms… Okay. How long are you intending to stay?”

“We don’t know yet… Is it okay if we end up staying for a while?” the person asks. His surprisingly gentle tone surprises Renjun. It certainly does not match up with his intimidating appearance, like his messy locks dyed lavender gray, the silver cross hanging from his ear or the chain collar around his neck.

“Of course. In that case, you will be paying the final price when you decide to check out, unless you would like to periodically pay in between.” Renjun clears his throat and looks back to his guest. “I need the name and a form of identification from one person in each room. I’m assuming the rooms are divided into two, two, and three people?”

“Yes… Yes, that’s right… Have the room of three be under my name. Here.”

He digs through a pocket on the inside of his jacket and takes out a worn down wallet. His ID card slips out and he shows it to Renjun. The receptionist takes a moment to look at it and nods. Lee Taeyong.

Taeyong turns around when Renjun is inputting the information into the system.

“Yuta, Jaehyun, come here and take out your ID.”

The two eating muffins approach the desk. One with ashy pink hair styled up and over his forehead and faint freckles on his nose and cheeks pulls out the card from, again, inside the jacket. Jung Jaehyun. It concerns Renjun to know that his card is loose in his pocket and not in a wallet.

The second person, having longer black locks perfectly parted at the middle and almost hiding his eyes, has a wallet shaped like those strange Japanese food balls. He takes out his ID, too. Nakamoto Yuta. At least there’s an explanation to the unique wallet choice.

Renjun doesn’t know anything about motorcycle gangs. All he knows is that they’re… gangs. Or groups of people on motorcycles who commit crimes. They’re violent; they carry around bats or at worst, guns. They’re crude and like to stomp around the place like they’re the best.

But the supposed biker gang he’s facing at the moment is nothing like that. They’re polite, they do as they’re told, they even cautioned one another not to take too many muffins from the muffin basket. 

What is this? Is Renjun dreaming?

He snaps out of his thoughts. 

He quickly types up the last of the registration and grabs the three keys according to each room. Going over the building where the rooms are, parking, meal times, things that cost additional money, and every other customary thing he has to explain, Taeyong does nothing but nod. He’s listening carefully to Renjun’s words — a rare feat, since none of his coworkers have so far.

“…And that’s about it. Do you have any questions or concerns?”

“Yeah, how often are those muffins there?” the pink-haired one asks. He has a mouthful of muffin that he’s chewing on.

“Daily. Our baker bakes them fresh every morning. You can find them on just about every corner as well,” says Renjun, a little proud of Jungwoo the hardworking baker. Jaehyun whispers a “yes!” and happily smiles into his munches. His dimples are the most disarming thing Renjun has ever seen.

“Thanks. I hope we’re not too much trouble to you guys.”

“Not at all. Thank you for staying with us.”

Taeyong takes the keys and gestures to the hallway. 

“Come on, kids. Let’s go.”

The group follow after him, eventually leaving the lobby. Renjun turns to their direction and bows. They’re a bit noisy with their chattering, harsh footsteps of boots and clinking accessories, but it’s tolerable. 

When he turns back to the front, he doesn’t expect seeing two of the members left behind, staring at the receptionist. One has his arm draped over the other’s shoulder.

Renjun notices one of them is strikingly familiar. But that can’t be possible, he thinks, because none of the people he knows are biker gang members…

Until his suspicions get confirmed when one of them looks at him curiously and says, “Renjun?”

Renjun is at a loss for words. Or more like he can’t form any words to say back. The name pops up in his head, just the first name, but he isn’t sure if he wants to say it. This person, he hasn’t seen in years. A lump in his throat is stopping him from voicing his thoughts at all.

He doesn’t get a chance to speak, anyway, because then the other one, the one Renjun _doesn’t_ know, opens his mouth and sends the receptionist into full-blown internal panic.

“Jeno, what the fuck? You know someone _this_ cute and you’ve never introduced me?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Jaemin, you do realize we’re… dating, right?”

“So? I’m not saying you’re suddenly un-cute,” the one with pink hair says. He sticks his tongue out at his apparent boyfriend, taking his arm off. He steps up to the desk and grins at the receptionist. 

His eyes are very clearly traveling around Renjun’s features. It makes him unbelievably flustered.

“What’s up?” he greets with a wink. The other one walks up to the desk as well, tugging on his arm.

With the two of them standing frighteningly close to Renjun — who is also seated in contrast, making him feel smaller than ever — he gets a good look at them through his awkwardly blinking eyes.

The person he recognizes is most definitely who Renjun thinks he is. Lee Jeno. An old classmate of his back from high school. They were good friends, but one day Jeno disappeared and cut off contact from everyone he knew. That was years back and Renjun had just about forgotten who he was — until his sudden, unexpected reappearance, of course.

Jeno looks just the way he did those few years ago. What stands out most is his platinum blonde, nearly white locks, a huge gap from his black hair Renjun was used to seeing him with. Other than that, Jeno is the same Jeno that Renjun knew for being a little socially awkward, deeply interested in reptiles and not having the greatest life at home.

“Good to see that you’re alive, Jeno,” Renjun greets jokingly, cracking a small smile.

Jeno smiles back. The way his eyes arch when he does that is still the same too, to Renjun’s pleasure. His eye smile is the most endearing thing he’d ever seen on a person.

“I thought you’d end up working at a fancy hospital as head surgeon or something,” Jeno jests in return. “Not at an old motel like this.”

“Aw, you guys are so cute…” the pink-head coos. He playfully hits Jeno’s arm. “Jeno, introduce me already!”

“Jeez, alright!” Jeno does the “calm down” gesture at him. He establishes eye contact with the receptionist. “Renjun, this is Jaemin. Jaemin, this is Renjun. We went to the same high school.”

“Renjun…” Jaemin trails off. “Nice.”

The receptionist merely looks at him. Jaemin grins.

“You’re _really_ cute. Like, seriously. I’ve never met anyone for the first time and thought they’re _this_ pretty before.”

In his life, Renjun hadn’t seen many people aside from Jeno that he found genuinely attractive. But Jaemin simply takes the cake. 

There’s just something about Jaemin that makes him so charming that he can’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it’s the billion dollar grin that he’s constantly wearing, adorning his already stunning features. Or maybe it’s the way he gazes so attentively and with such an intense gleam in his eyes that instigates nervousness in Renjun. Like the shy, panicked nervousness one would get in their stomach when in the presence of their favorite celebrity. That’s what Renjun’s first impression of Jaemin is — a beautiful celebrity he could only ever dream of meeting in person.

It comes as an abrupt, right-at-the-moment reminder that strikes Renjun, shocking him — these people are members of a biker gang. 

These two are friendly, casual and give Renjun “the boy next door” vibes (though they do this in different ways, Jeno being more on the “innocent” side and Jaemin being more… the opposite of that). They may dress tough and intimidating with their silver rings and ripped clothing, but their bright personalities shine through.

And this is all from literally a minute long conversation with them. Is Renjun finally going crazy?

Perhaps it’s the redness and heat in his face building up from Jaemin’s merciless compliments.

“I’m sorry, he…” Jeno interjects with a sigh, “Jaemin has a habit of being very… flirty.”

Renjun fakes a cough.

“It’s fine,” he says with a second-long smile.

“Are you expecting _me_ out of all people to resist the temptation?”

Jeno frowns and tugs on Jaemin’s arm again.

“C’mon, the others left already. We gotta go.”

Jaemin’s eyes roll. “I’ll see you around, angel,” he tells Renjun with another wink before Jeno forcefully whisks him away. His gaze remains on Renjun and he waves his hand at him before disappearing to the hallway.

Renjun slumps into his chair. The cushion lets out a soft _puff_ of air.

Doyoung was right. Something bad is going to happen — and somehow, he senses that he’s going to be involved in it.

— 

“Oh my god, we’ve got a biker gang!”

Chenle runs into the lobby screaming with a vacuum cleaner in hand. Yes, it’s on and the power cord is still connected to an outlet somewhere. Spotting this, Renjun shoots up from his chair and points to the extended line.

“Chenle, I swear to god, turn off and unplug that thing before you hurt yourself!” he shouts, the vrooming noise of the appliance being extra loud. 

The housekeeper panics, doing anything _but_ turning it off. Then the vacuum suddenly stops running on its own, and both boys stand frozen in confusion.

“ _I got it,_ ” Sicheng’s deep voice notifies them from the hallway.

Renjun puts his hand on his forehead.

“ _How did it go?_ ” Chenle whispers cautiously, dragging the vacuum with him to the desk.

The receptionist pretends to be working on something important on his computer, typing away rapidly. He doesn’t turn from the screen to look at Chenle.

“ _It went fine._ ”

“... _‘Fine’?_ ” Chenle blinks at Renjun with a gaped mouth. “ _Sorry, but how?_ ”

A sigh. Renjun’s palms fall on the clunky keyboard.

“ _They checked in like normal. There’s nothing special about them. Except for their outfits, I guess._ ”

Chenle says a silent, impressed _wow_. “ _I can’t believe it,_ ” the redhead tells Renjun mid-gasp, “ _I think you might be the new ace of our team._ ”

“ _The ace?_ ” Renjun raises his brows doubtedly. “ _Who was the ace before?_ ”

“ _Donghyuck, probably. Everyone else has way too many flaws. Not that Donghyuck doesn’t have any, though._ ”

Donghyuck happens to be walking by. He’s transporting a box of supplies. His eyes narrow suspiciously at the lobby during the short window of time he and Chenle meet gazes.

“ _Anyways…_ ”

“Just because I don’t understand it doesn’t mean you’ll get away with gossiping!” Donghyuck yells by the time he’s further down the hallway.

The housekeeper shrugs.

“ _See? Everyone has their fair share of flaws. It’s just that he’s somewhat more well-rounded than the others,_ ” he explains, pointing his thumb towards the direction Donghyuck traveled. “ _But that guy, I gotta warn you, is not the person you want to mess with. He’s competitive, conniving, shameless so he’ll do absolutely anything to get what he wants… He’s super smart, too. Not necessarily book smart but he plans and calculates his every move, like he’s playing god in this game and we’re just all his pawns. He doesn’t have any specific goal except for winning in the most pleasurable way possible._ ”

“ _Wow,_ ” Renjun says, staring at his computer screen. Chenle nods. “ _I can tell you’re overexaggerating a whole lot._ ”

“ _Wha– No I’m not!_ ” claims Chenle with a big pout. Renjun remains unfazed.

“ _Sure you aren’t. Your reaction really does tell me a lot._ ”

The housekeeper pouts even more, unwilling to admit defeat. “ _I’m gonna leave,_ ” he declares with a _hmph_ as he marches away, dragging the vacuum cleaner and its cord line.

Renjun exhales slowly. Finally some quiet time. 

He’d been avoiding straight up telling Chenle to leave if he was just going to rant on and on about things he could care less about. Even though people like Chenle annoy him to some degree, he doesn’t have the heart to be _that_ mean to someone who’s probably just unnecessarily talkative and in need of an outlet. Isn’t that what Sicheng is there for, though? 

(Unless he ran out of things to talk about with Sicheng too, which doesn’t sound improbable to Renjun.)

— 

After the Chenle incident, two more hours go by without Renjun being bothered by his coworkers. A couple guests check in, check out or ring up the reception with various requests.

One time, it was a noise complaint about a group of rowdy young men staying next doors, so Renjun had to call _them_ to caution them about their noise levels. Whoever picked up the phone apologized profusely and promised to try his best in containing the others. He sounded genuinely embarrassed of the ruckus they were making.

Another time, it wasn’t a call; it was a guest, one of the bikers at that, who physically came up to the desk. He was a small-faced, rather nervous guy and probably the only member with natural black hair. If it wasn’t for his leather jacket, Renjun wouldn’t have recognized him. The person simply asked if there was a cafe of sorts — there is, except it’s a guest lounge next to the main eatery and managed by Donghyuck — so Renjun gave him the directions. He was thanked with multiple half-bows.

_Biker gang, huh? Frightening, violent, criminal biker gang, huh?_

The front doors swing open. A young man dressed in a uniform — a vest, striped dress shirt, and brown pouch — holding a box comes in. Delivery man, it seems like. He appears surprised at the unfamiliar person behind the desk.

“New receptionist?” he asks, walking up to the desk and putting the box down.

A group of many feet walk down the hallway towards the dining area, which reminds Renjun that it’s almost his lunch break. 

“Very much so,” Renjun replies, a little relieved. 

Surely this delivery man isn’t weird like the rest of the staff, is he?

“Well, I’m Taeil. I always do deliveries to this place since no one else wants to,” he explains with a sweet smile. “So you’ll be seeing me around a lot.”

That doesn’t sound too bad. Renjun grins back.

“I’m Renjun.” He glances at the box on the desk, addressed to a Qian Kun instead of the motel. “Is that for my boss?”

“Why, yes, it is. Is he in his room?” Taeil asks, patting the box. Renjun wonders what’s inside it.

“I would assume so. I haven’t seen him at all.”

“Stressed guy, isn’t he?” Taeil picks up the box and nods to himself. “Makes sense.”

 _What does?_ Renjun wants to ask.

The delivery man leaves the lobby, already knowing where to go. Renjun leans back in his chair, crossing his arms and taking deep breaths. It’s almost strange how quiet and peaceful things have been for a while. He has the feeling that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be, working in a melting pot of people “eccentric” in their own unique ways and all.

Just then, the phone rings. There it is.

Renjun checks the system before picking up. The call is from the kitchen. Odd. He’d never expected to get one from there.

“Hello, th–”

“ _Renjun, come over to the kitchen right now! It’s an emergency! Don’t worry about the desk, I sent Doyoung to cover for you!_ ”

The distressed and urgent voice is Kun’s. Why is he at the kitchen? Not to mention, he hears faint shouting, talking, clanging of pots and pans in the background.

“Wh– What’s going on? What’s the emergency?”

“ _Just hurry and come, I’ll explain when you get here! Also, leave your jacket at the desk if you’re wearing one!_ ” 

“But–”

Kun hangs up. For a moment, Renjun sits completely still, absolutely speechless. 

Whatever this emergency at the kitchen is, there has to be a logical reason as to why Kun is specifically calling for him. A little begrudgingly, he gets up from the desk and starts jogging towards the dining area. 

On the way, he meets Doyoung who is also running. They exchange looks — Doyoung is worried about something. Renjun gets a chill up his spine.

He hears chattering behind the doors. A few of those voices, he feels like he recognizes, but maybe he’s just mishearing things. 

When he pulls open the doors and sees a group of the same leather jackets seated, occupying two tables, Renjun reassures himself that he’s not crazy after all. These people are _loud._ In that instance, he’s also convinced that the supposed kitchen emergency must be tied to them. Somehow. 

Renjun rushes past the tables and straight to the kitchen. Jaemin and Jeno notice him.

“What’s he doing?” Jaemin asks him.

Jeno shrugs. “Maybe it’s got to do with the other guy running out earlier. Employee stuff.”

“I guess.”

“Guys, they have BLTs!”

“What’s a BLT?”

“Uh… Black leaf tea?”

“Wait, it’s black tea?”

“No, but now that you mention it, I’m kinda craving some black tea.”

Johnny and Kun are at the kitchen. Kun has his sleeves rolled up and he’s shouting a bunch of instructions to the waiter. Johnny has ingredients all over him. It’s chaos.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” Renjun asks, needing to raise his volume over Kun’s loud voice.

“ _Renjun! Oh my goodness._ ” Kun drops the spatula in a pan and rushes over to Renjun, grabbing his shoulders. He looks like he needs a week-long nap. “ _I need your help running this kitchen for lunch._ ”

“What?” Renjun’s eyes squint. He doesn’t understand the situation. “Why?”

“Jungwoo had a nervous breakdown after looking at the dining room,” Johnny explains calmly despite most likely not understanding Chinese, holding a bowl of tomatoes. “He freaked out about the biker gang.”

“Is he okay?” wonders Renjun concernedly.

“He’s fine, but he needs a break and can’t cook right now.”

“Wait, he’s the cook?” The receptionist looks astonished. “I thought he’s the baker.”

Johnny eats a piece of lettuce. 

“He’s both, yeah,” he says in between bites.

“Jeez…” Renjun rubs the side of his face. Well, of course Jungwoo would need a break. He feels tired just thinking about all the work one would do as both. But the issue at hand has to be addressed first. “So why am I the one who has to help out?”

“Because you seem like you can cook responsibly,” Kun bluntly says, handing his employee an apron. “Johnny has to do waiter things and I don’t trust Doyoung with knives.”

Renjun is reluctant to take on the job of cooking.

“What about… Donghyuck?” he suggests.

“Busy doing barista things next door,” Kun quickly tells him.

“Sicheng?”

“Busy cleaning,” Johnny adds.

“…Chenle?”

“No,” both of them say in unison. 

That’s fair.

Renjun scratches his head, trying to think of more names. “The security guard?”

Johnny laughs, finding that suggestion super hilarious. 

“No,” he says yet again.

The blond ~~stares~~ glares at him.

“So that’s that,” the waiter concludes with a half-smirk. He’s very aware that he’s irritating Renjun. “Tie the apron on, sweetie.”

“I…” 

_…am about to send someone to the 27th dimension._

Renjun sighs loudly and puts the apron on, tying the strings behind his back.

“Excuse me, we’re ready to order!” a voice calls from the dining area.

“Well, that’s my cue,” Johnny says with a light chuckle, clearly enjoying the sight of grumpy Renjun. He takes a notepad and pen, winking on the way out. Renjun almost grabbed the nearby spatula on instinct.

“ _Renjun?_ ” Kun goes, peering over his shoulder.

“ _Yes?_ ” replies Renjun, approaching him at the stovetop.

“ _I assume you don’t know what the lunch menu is, so I’ll just tell you what to do and stuff. Does that sound okay?_ ” he explains, looking at the younger, setting up various utensils.

Renjun nods diligently, folding his hands in front of himself politely.

“ _And — let me confirm — you_ can _cook, yes?_ ”

A soft laugh comes from Renjun. “ _Yes, I can. I’m not the greatest but I know what I’m doing._ ”

This makes Kun smile warmly.

Johnny returns with the group’s order soon after, in the middle of Kun instructing Renjun where the ingredients are and apologizing in advance for yelling (because he definitely will yell in the heat of the moment). 

“Two BLTs, three fish and chips, one grilled sandwich, and one… plate of pancakes,” Kun reads the notepad from Johnny out loud, tilting his head at the last item.

“Drinks on the other side.”

“Oh.” Kun turns the page. “Eight… shots of espresso, two lemonades, and… four black teas?”

“Do we need to make the drinks too?” Renjun asks meekly.

“Nah, Donghyuck does all of that. But that does mean someone has to get this order to him _and_ the drinks once he’s finished,” Johnny tells him with a sly expression. Renjun’s eyes burn holes into the waiter’s confident, playful attitude. “And that someone will be me. Farewell, friends.”

The two Chinese fellows look at each other. 

“ _Well, let’s get cooking._ ”

And so they begin the preparation of their one and only lunch order, Renjun picking out the ingredients from the storage and Kun doing much of the actual cooking. Renjun acts as his assistant — like a sous chef if Kun is executive — and does some washing, cutting and mixing. 

Johnny doesn’t return as quick as Renjun thought he would, considering he’s just getting drinks. It either means that Donghyuck is slow or Johnny is taking his precious time at the lounge. 

Perfect timing for one of their guests to call for the waiter.

“ _I guess I’ll get that,_ ” Renjun grumbles, drying his hands on a towel. Kun is in the middle of cooking some bacon.

Renjun makes his way out of the kitchen, hurriedly walking towards the two tables the gang occupies. 

They seem to be split by age, though this is a guess formed purely based on appearance. The three guys who showed him their IDs (Taeyong, Jaehyun and Yuta) are sitting at one table, while four others (Jaemin, Jeno, the guy who asked about a cafe and another person with bright blue hair) sit at the neighboring table. Only a couple of them pay Renjun any attention.

“Oh, hey!” Jaemin greets him with a wide, toothy smile. Clearly, seeing Renjun is a pleasant surprise for him. “So you’re a part time waiter?”

“I’m not, it’s just… the actual waiter is gone. For some reason,” he replies through a forced smile. 

Everyone gets the message that he isn’t happy about Johnny’s disappearance. Renjun clears his throat.

“What can I help you with?”

“I was actually just going to ask the waiter guy if he speaks English,” Jaehyun explains, “because I saw his name’s Johnny. But if he’s not here then, I guess… we don’t really need anything.”

“Ah. Alright,” Renjun says with a slight shrug.

Before he can turn away, he’s stopped by Jaemin.

“Wait!” he shouts, standing up from his chair and putting out his hand. “Let me buy you lunch.”

Two people sitting next to Jaemin groan and look away. Jeno hides his face in his hands. Jaehyun is obviously trying not to laugh. Yuta does laugh.

And finally, Taeyong looks mortified.

“Jaemin, he’s working right now,” he scolds the one beaming eagerly at the shocked Renjun.

“He– He really did that, right in front of Jeno!” Yuta laughs, leaning back in his chair. Taeyong narrows his eyes at him, and he goes quiet.

“What can I say? Cute people are cute,” Jaemin confidently says, adding a snarky _heh_ and sitting back down. He then leans back and crosses his arms. No remorse. 

“Do you guys need a relationship counselor or something?” the “normal” one asks Jeno and Jaemin softly out of genuine concern.

Meanwhile, Renjun is breathing rapidly and his face is getting bright. If it wasn’t for the sake of customer service, he’d be dashing back into the kitchen by then.

Taeyong reaches over to pat the receptionist’s arm out of comfort. Except he doesn’t, since he respects Renjun’s personal space. Still, the gesture is very much appreciated.

“You can just leave if you want,” Taeyong whispers, glancing up to him reassuringly. “Really sorry about the trouble. They mean well. I think.”

Renjun nods and steps away from the tables. He speedwalks to return to the kitchen, hiding his red face.

“ _What was it?_ ” Kun asks when Renjun returns. He shakes his head.

“ _Nothing in particular. They just had some questions._ ”

The two of them carry on with making the ordered dishes, having small talk in the process. Eventually Johnny brings the drinks to the group, though he never heads back to the kitchen. 

It’s actually kind of nice, Renjun discovers. The kitchen may be hot, he may be sweaty and this may be extra work he’s not getting paid for, but it’s nice. It’s nice to work closely with another person, serving food for a bunch of lame bikers. It’s nice to see the food turn out well and for him and Kun to applaud each other on the good work.

And it’s not just this instance at the kitchen (that’ll probably never happen again). Working at this motel is mentally exhausting but there’s something about it that makes Renjun thank the gods he doesn’t work for a five-star luxury hotel instead.

Or maybe he’s overthinking things.

“ _Kun, why don’t you hire more people?_ ” Renjun asks, finishing up the two BLTs. “ _You shouldn’t have to take over the job if something like this happens. You already have so much work to do, don’t you?_ ”

Kun sighs. 

“ _I’ve tried, but nobody really sees the appeal in working at a small, old place like this._ ”

“ _But you can afford to hire more employees?_ ” Renjun questions with a somewhat rueful look. He watches Kun’s hardworking back.

“ _…Yes, I can,_ ” he answers, staring at the fryer working on the fish and chips. “ _Financially, this place is supported by my parents, so it’s not like we have any issues with money._ ”

Renjun pauses. “ _Your parents?_ ”

Kun’s eyes flicker unconfidently. He dumps out the three servings of fried food onto separate plates.

“ _They run a big hotel chain. My dad’s the CEO. They’re trying to see who would be the most suitable heir out of me and my siblings, so they gave me this motel to run as a test. But…_ ” Kun turns to Renjun and flashes him a gentle smile. “ _I don’t think I want to run some fancy hotels. I’m kind of attached to this place, like… this is where I truly belong._ ”

Renjun gazes at him, his lips parted slightly. He never would’ve guessed that Kun was from such a wealthy, high-status family. Maybe that’s why his parents sent him off to this motel — Renjun expects that Kun finds a lot more joy in this serene, slow-moving world of a one-stop motel.

“ _I’ll take these over,_ ” Renjun informs his boss, grabbing the two sandwich plates.

As soon as he steps out of the kitchen and the group can see him with the food, Yuta stands up excitedly and shouts.

“Ha! See, I told you they’d bring the BLTs first!” he yells with triumphant laughter. He holds his hand out towards Jaehyun. “My five bucks, please.”

Rolling his eyes, Jaehyun takes out a wrinkled bill and drops it in Yuta’s hand. The winner grins.

“Two BLTs?” says Renjun, standing between the two tables.

“Me!” responds Yuta, raising his hand.

“And me,” the one with blue locks says, also raising his hand. Renjun drops a plate in front of each of them.

“By the way, has anyone not washed their hands yet?” Taeyong asks the entire group, his face absolutely serious.

No one speaks up.

“Are we sure?” he pries at them, eyebrow rising.

The one with black hair and Jeno slowly get up.

Taeyong turns to Renjun.

“Could you show them where the bathroom is?” he asks the waiter-receptionist sheepishly.

“Oh, of course,” Renjun replies with a smile. “It’s this way.”

With the two following behind him, Renjun leads them to the nearest bathroom, which is at the opposite end of the dining area. Admittedly, it’s not easy to spot and Renjun himself had difficulty looking for it during his tour. 

His ears pick up softly spoken words. The two are talking to each other. Renjun tries not to eavesdrop but frankly, it’s almost impossible when they’re _right_ behind him.

“Hey, is he the dude that you went to school with? The one from China?”

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

“Didn’t you tell me once about how you had a massive crush on h–”

“M– Mark, shut up! He’s literally right there!”

“If he could hear us he’d turn around by now!”

“Oh. Well… I guess you’re right.”

“You still like him or something?”

“I… Uh… I mean, no! Of course not!”

Renjun closes his eyes. He prays to no one in particular that he’ll be able to maintain his composure for at least one more minute.

“Here’s the bathroom,” he says, stopping and turning around besides the door. He pretends to not have heard anything for the sake of Jeno.

“Thanks, can’t wait to wash my hands!” Jeno exclaims rapidly, beaming at Renjun, practically running into the bathroom. Renjun sees that his ears are bright red.

“Haha, he’s some sort of hygiene enthusiast or something,” Mark says with many chuckles in between his words as he walks into the bathroom.

Renjun can do nothing but smile at the incredibly awkward comment.

The rest of lunch goes smoothly. Renjun serves the dishes that Kun finishes making for the biker gang, he stays behind to clean up everything, and Johnny is never seen again.

(Except Renjun finds him at the lounge chatting it up with Taeil later. And when he complains about it, Johnny apologizes with a snarky “sorry” and takes another sip of his coffee.)

He never thought an extra long lunch break could feel so exhilarating.

— 

“ _Moshi moshi?_ ”

“ _No. Don’t say that ever again._ ”

Chenle scoffs, swinging around a towel idly.

“What is it?”

“ _Guests at room 306 want extra pillows._ ”

“How many?”

“ _Ten._ ”

“What the hell?”

“ _Have fun._ ”

“Renjun, I am–”

The receptionist hangs up. Chenle groans loudly and stomps his way over to the storage for pillows, blankets and whatnot. He drags his housekeeper cart with him, knowing he can’t balance ten pillows in his hands at once.

“Why would _anyone_ need ten pillows? Ten! Pillows! Just _why?_ ” he mutters to himself angrily, counting the pillows as he grabs them and tosses them onto the cart. “I swear I’m going to treat myself to extra muffins tomorrow.”

Chenle generally likes his job. The pay isn’t great and it’s a lot of physical labor, but getting to hang out with Sicheng or Yukhei is definitely worth it. Cleaning rooms and doing laundry is pretty satisfying, too.

Sometimes when he’s called up to do super tedious tasks — like the ten pillows to one room literally two minutes before his shift ends — he gets annoyed. But during these times, Chenle reminds himself that by doing this job, he’s reducing the amount of work the busy Kun has to do.

Besides, Chenle owes Kun his life.

The redheaded housekeeper drags the cart up the stairs, halting in front of the room labeled 306. Whatever the people in this room are doing, it’s loud. He hears their voices, shouting, laughing, thumping, probably bodies falling to the floor or jumping on the beds.

He wipes his brow, makes a straight face, and knocks on the door.

It takes a few seconds before anyone even mentions the knock on the door. Chenle picks up a faint “ _get the door, baby blue_ ” followed by cursing and amused laughter. He knows better than to question what guests are doing behind closed doors. Or to eavesdrop, for that matter.

The door opens. A tall figure with a white feather stuck in his blue hair is gripping the doorknob.

“You guys requested for ten pillows?” Chenle quickly asks, wanting to get this task over with already. Two people inside the room are also covered in feathers and punching each other with pillows.

The person’s eyes grow wide.

“Uh– Uh– Yes. Yes we did,” he manages to say in an unexpectedly deep voice. He sniffs and scrunches his nose nervously.

Okay, Chenle thinks. 

This guy is kind of cute.

The housekeeper grabs as many pillows as he can — which is four — from the cart, handing it to the guest. He rushes into the room, drops the pile on the messy bed, and rushes back to the door where Chenle is waiting with the next four. The process repeats.

When Chenle is handing him the last two, he offers him a little smile of hospitality. He swears the guy’s eyes widen again for some reason.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No. I don’t think so. No.”

The two others are standing behind him and snickering.

“Have a good night.”

“Thanks. I mean– You too. Thanks for the pillows, I mean.”

Chenle giggles.

“You’re welcome, ‘baby blue’.”

As the door shuts and Chenle is making his way down the stairs, he hears embarrassed groaning and even more laughter.

Being a housekeeper is pretty neat.

— 

Home sweet home.

(Except it’s just one of the motel rooms.)

Renjun’s suitcase full of clothes and other personal items is, for the most part, unpacked. All he’s taken out so far are a few clothing items and the “essentials” — as he likes to call it — which are just his laptop, heating pad, sketchbook, and nightlight.

Although it’s not quite late yet, exhaustion had been building up throughout the day and Renjun’s body is just about ready to sleep for twelve hours. His shifts start rather early, anyway (but so does everyone’s, since they were all awake even before the sunrise).

His room is 312, one found on the far end of a separate building from where the lobby and main entrance are. The section he’s in is a regular floor for guests to stay in, which is way more comforting than sleeping next door to Chenle or Johnny.

Laptop is on the desk, all plugged in and connected to the motel wifi. It was the first thing Renjun made sure to do when he was given access to the room. He considers sending a message to his parents, telling them that his first day went “well” or getting updated on his favorite astronomy-ology blog. He contemplates the decision and chooses to go straight to bed.

The nightlight — one he’s been using since middle school — has the shape and pattern of the moon. It’s the one thing that never fails to comfort him at night. Thinking he would end up spending more nights at the hotel than his actual home, he brought it with him. 

And good thing he did, because his and Chenle’s conversation in the morning relentlessly echoes in his head.

“ _This place — I’m being 100% serious — is haunted. People have died here before. In certain rooms, guests have claimed to see ghosts and strange things happen to them. I’ve watched Lucas, in the dead of the night, get called up by frightened guests because they saw ‘something’. Ask any staff member and you’ll see that I’m not lying. Everyone knows about this._ ”

Renjun shudders and pulls the blanket up to his chin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick note: it might be a while until i get back to writing because of school things (i'm a senior in hs currently!) but i promise that i will return eventually :) i'm looking forward to writing this dumb fic as much as you are (hopefully) to reading it!


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